How I see life.

Most people do not know what they want. They hide behind, it is never that serious to hurt their best friends, they dump the men who love them, who they deserve, to follow their golden goose, who usually turns out to be a degenerate father with a service fee and a banquet of unheard of STDs to reward you for following your heart. They watch movies and ignore coursework, and in that very act, urinate on their fathers’ hard earned money as they laugh and hang out and basically become so hateful as they add more colour to mask the rot that they are carrying.

Then, surprise surprise, when they are in their late twenties they turn to God and tweet bible verses, as they plot on how to sleep with the pastor and keep the guitarist a delicious secret. When they do get married, it is to ugly sons of bitches that know that they are copulating with rot, and thus treat rot as rot.

And there, they go through life, angry, dissatisfied and completely fey when there was always a second option.I wont offer the option because I am not your bloody therapist. 

For the early bird.

A few blogs away, I argue that people can be who they want to be regardless of what they went through, or who their parents are.Today, I am paying tribute to the hard work of parents. My focus today is the single most important aspect in a man’s life. Women too, but man mostly.. A mother.

People do not get it into your delusive little minds that your prowess relies entirely upon your shoulders, or your girlfriend, or white sponsor cum sex buddy cum wife in the end cum..Okay, I stop I stop. White influence in Africa is a topic that rankles me deeply.

Anywaysssss…. My mother is the upright pole that my brother gravitates upon. (I used a stripper metaphor, hang me) He tells her everything, and the hypocrite that she is, she simply listens and does not judge. My brother once told her  a variation of a story I had told her earlier in the week, and while she chewed me out mapropsy for ndecent exposure and seduction techniques, she stayed pokerfaced through out the whole tale and even managed a titter at the end. Smh. Mothers.

I love my mother dont get me wrong, and even if you are Jack the ripper on steroids, you love yours t0o. That is the way of the world.And when we love someone, involuntarily or deliberately, we copy their mannerisms. We emulate their virtues and learn from their mistakes. That too is the way of the world. Therefore, it is impossible to say that a rotten mannered man has a sane mother.

Or that a man who is as selfish as the original Narcissus has a benevolent mother. People havent you gone through all of the sayings now? The apple doesnt fall very far from the tree. I always suspected that the tree they meant was never the man, rather the woman. The same thing goes for A chip off the old block. Forgive me for being crude but you came through her no? Doesnt that mean that the block.. okay okay…

Again, we consult the bible. Train up a child in the way they should grow… and etc. In your youth, especially as an African child, I can count the times you ran to your father with teary eyed gibberish that you expected him to decipher in order to learn why your knee was scraped. None. Or if your Dad was good once or twice. But your mom, oh your mom. “Mom, sylvie took the pen so Ed pushed the swing and I was on the merry go round” meant that you had gotten into a fight. And your mom always understood, always. She is always on your side too.

Therefore, as future parents, and as spoilt rotten adults,learn to fully comprehend just how much mothers played a role in your upbringing. And learn from it. We learn in steps. Once you understand just what she did to ensure that your future is this rosy, adopt that system. If she hurt you and stymied your trust in women, learn from that too.

This one is for the early birds. Learn from what grew you.

Harsh realities.

I have been watching for quite a long time and I think it is time. Ladies and Gentlemen, especially those on Twitter, this is my very loud TGE, RW version 1.33.

TGE is Tusaaba Gavumenti Etuyambe. It is a mockery of people who try to solve their issues in the laziest, most ineffective way. By asking for Gorvernment help. I am not saying the gorvernment is ineffective, I am saying, you really do not think it is a solver of Mundane affairs really .

But that is neither here nor there. My point here is the annoying number of people who have come to rely on NGOs to solve their lives for them in Rwanda.

Before you shoot me, consider this, I have done my research. 8 children in 15 are under NGO financing, the rest are under the parliament. Parents look at you with cow eyes when you ask them what happens after children finish high school. Most of them do not know the answer to that question. Do not get me wrong, a lot of families here live below the poverty line, but what about those who dont. What about the Teachers, Doctors, Clerks and the rest who can afford education? why do they insist on being helped?

Laziness. The down side to this well oiled gorvernment system is that people are not innovative, they do not think ahead and save because Guverinoma is always going to be there for them. Well I say bloody hell, STOP!

Most of the entrepreneurs I have seen have not asked for help, most of the stories say they faced overwhelming odds to get to where they are. NGOs are good and have bettered people’s lives, but now it is overkill. People have taken them for granted and now they are expected to go wipe asses as they are at the issue of solving problems.

If I had my way, I would ask NGOs to sponsor the lowest of the low, but also only up to a certain level. People should learn to shoulder their burdens.


A VERY POLITE OPEN LETTER. or what I would say in this case scenario.

My texts are usually raw. And unrefined. This one is going to be the same way. Sometimes we get carried off into the Lala land that is University and you wish so hard for something you almost become a sinner. I know we all have that one thing we crave so much we would probably steal it given the chance. For some it is your father’s windows phone, for others it is that hot babe that keeps bringing lunch for your workmate. I KNOW. I worked with some dude named Timo and he has this one particular babe that shows up with a hamper from his wife every lunch time. I kept thinking, dude, ignore your bitter berries, eye on the prize, mehn… Before the ladies eye me with distaste, let me describe her… she is someone that was sent to earth to make you feel inadequate and endowed with scraps that have fallen from the Lord’s table. No offence. Lol. You wondered why she was working as a house help. Even more shocking is the fact the wife is the one that brought her. I think, she pulled a komuntale on her marriage, but that is my opinion. 

Moving on, yeah, my secret pleasure, one that I stole quite frequently and with no remorse were those city boy candy balls that hung on a pole my father had in his study. They were for good performance, and going through church without sleeping for two sundays straight. My brother is a genius and my sister is a saint, so I never got to sample those spiky balls of goodness because I failed at the church sleeping part. So I stole. I still don’t regret it, mainly because I used to share it with my siblings as soon as I stole. And yes, it was from the goodness of my heart, not from a clever way of ensuring that I never got ratted on.

So anyway Mrs Kabaata, I would like to conclude this letter to you saying that I will steal your man, since as seen from above, I am quite generous with what I have stolen. And I go hard, because the more you fight this, the harder my charms will get until your man can only think of the eggplant vs Chicken example whenever he looks at you. Just give up. After you do, visit my facebook page, I keep quotes like “I am a strong woman who doesnt need a man” and “For an Independent woman, a good man is a bonus” handy. I am neither good nor independent so I need your man. Im sure you don’t mind. Thank you in advance.

I am sure you have never met a husband snatcher as nice as me. 

Ok Bye


A very broke campuser

Ps. I am not in love with him.

This Enchilada. Spicy and True. Eat it.

I should be reading but I am too angry to concentrate. So I will rant about this for now. First and foremost, I have been reading my boss’ blog lately. I happened to read one that caught my attention, it was a piece about teenage pregnancies especially in high school. I a not a mathematician or even particularly interested in statistics but the little research I did, (which was typing Teenage pregnancies in Africa on Google search) showed an overwhelming number of young girls’ lives ruined.

This is not a moral speech on the dangers of the lack of sex education in schools. It is a wake up call to the adults in our society. Stop being so blind. The first thing you must make peace with is that your child is having sex.

Sex today is like the threshold where love is measured in today’s schools, trust me I know, I was in high school not long ago. The teens know more about sex than you who were born in the days of Frank Sinatra. I recently had a conversation with a cousin who is in high school in Uganda. She was telling me of her friend and the conversation went as follows: “So, she invited me to her thingy with her boo, but shit went down like pow pow…Doggy, Kabaawo and Helicopter to say the least, sis I tell you she showed me how to get some from someone, I better call this kaboy, I want now.”

Shell shocked will not even begin to describe how I looked and felt. I am not the most chaste person there is but I will honestly tell you the truth, I do not know how the Kabaawo style is, or even if it is legal.

Now tell me how you are going on a hot Saturday afternoon to describe the dangers of sex to this monster generation? No offense but do you honestly think a generation that has the likes of Willow Smith and Sheila Gashumba  is not aware of the dangers of unprotected sex? The answer my friend is right there in your sweaty palms as you read this,they probably can recite it in their sleep.

they know what they are walking into


This is where I present a solution to that conundrum..You ask your selves what the solution is to this outrage.. I am asking you kindly. Stop deluding yourselves and put the condoms in schools. Yes, even you Rwanda. I am sure expelling the culprits will not only bring about a big headed rebellious side to the but the young girls’ lives are ruined for ever.

I would suggest that you have regular talks with the female wardens but I know how that turned out for me. At my most polite, I can say what they said is bullshit. So, it comes back to this. Please have condom vending machines installed in schools and don’t watch who comes to pick them up for hope that you will expel them.

It is better to have sexually active teens who are doing it carefully rather than a whole lot of grandbabies who will make you turn the name of your school to St Augustine High school and Daycare. And Orphanage. And HIV Sickbay.

Tantrums again

Looking across the class, I see faces. Beautiful, bored faces,staring at the lecturer while clicking or swiping their phones underneath the desks. These are the paragons of health and youth and whatnot. They believe in their invincibility, they won’t die. They believe in the faltering speech of the ancients.

These faces are much more than my classmates, sometimes I feel like they are much more than friends. These share some of the most important parts of my day. These play my hunger games.

Today’s game centersaround their mother instincts, and yes, only girls can play. Looking at the light skinned Christian twins at the front, I can already see them as mothers, at the core, they are good people. They have all the features.

Now their neighbour will not be so lucky. Her love of materialistic, expensive trinkets will be the death of her.She looks like she will settle for a sham of a marriage if it may get her into  the right country club and buy her all the diamond tennis bracelets she will ever need.

Before we go any further, I am not a prophet of doom, I left that to Elvis Mbonye and NabbiYoMukazi. I am just a careful observer of human behaviour and this I have learnt. Old habits die hard.

Across the room, I see Linda. She is going to be, God help me, a  tough single mother. Her type is the one that prefers long distance love, because she is so like a man; Proud and self reliant. Don’t forget egotistic. I grieve for the Love starved children she will have, but their morals, biblically speaking will be sung across many a hill.

Next to me is the most lethargic human being alive. Firstly,the child she will have will work hard in order to counteract the mother’s laziness. But she wont have any morals because the mother will not have had any time to instill them in her.

What I am trying to say here is, most of how we are stems from what our parents are like, I don’t doubt it, for almost three minutes, you have been subjected to misguided,inane analysis of my classmates.

 The main point here though is that we are who we are. Deep down, who our parents are, what we have gone through does not matter, we are our very own person. I do not like to sugar coat a bitter pill. I think the only reason while I am not a judge, don’t even want to be one is  because I do not know how to tell a half truth. Without swearing at least.

Life is hard, Somehow somewhere, someone is starving, someone is crying, someone is dying. Those people have relatives, friends classmates. But only two in Ten will become criminals.Why? Werent they as abused as the rest, did they have a respite in their suffering? No! They made a conscious decision to tuck in their chins and live on. It is as simple as that.

These things mbu,. My mother beat me with a foot long rod so I have to stab and rape every female with a red weave is plainly bull shit. You made the depraved decision, you are the cause, and outcome, only you!

The same goes for the less morbid decisions we make in life. Blaming our parents, our teachers, the school nurse, even the milkman won’t change the fact that you are pregnant, and the baby will come out of you, and from now and evermore, the title will be, your child.

Joyce Meyer was abused, Oprah Winfrey the same. A friend of mine was raped so badly, I am still scarred by the brutality while we were still toddlers. I do not see them selling their bodies to the highest bidder. Nor do they sit around moping around, cursing life. So hold the reins to your life, and cut your past some slack, the whole, I was abused while young story has become cliché and quite boring if you ask me. You don’t cut your tongue to spite your face you know.

So to all, the adulterers, murderers, harlots and drug traffickers out there, pluck a leaf from the Uganda Martyrs. Every 3rd June, Ugandans celebrate the incredible willpower a human can have when they are in full control of all their facilities.